


I Think I Saw You In My Sleep, Darling

by RubyElysian



Series: Every Morning There Are Mountains To Climb [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Evil John Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Other, POV Third Person Omniscient, Pre-Series, Sad Dean Winchester, Sometimes unreliable narrator, Timestamp, Wincest - Freeform, referenced sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 22:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20804327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyElysian/pseuds/RubyElysian
Summary: Dean has never been more alone in his whole existence, Sam isn't answering his calls and Dean for the life of him doesn't understand why. Sam is suffering through hell all alone and Dean is none the wiser, but that's the way it's supposed to be. A handsome stranger approaches the green eyed hunter in a nameless dive bar. Everyone needs a little something to fill the hole inside... Don't they?(Timestamp, set before the start of the first fic in the series, but to fully understand you should at least read a few chapters into the story.)





	I Think I Saw You In My Sleep, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> (Timestamp, set quite a while before the start of the first fic in the series, but to fully understand you should at least read a few chapters into the story.)
> 
> I started writing this timestamp a long time ago, and came across it while writing the new chapter for Every Morning There Are Mountains To Climb, I thought it deserved to be finished. It's in italics because in my mind it is technically a memory, I always do flashbacks or memories in italics. Also, you can expect timestamps for this series every now and again. Some things I like to write out but I don't feel they necessarily have a place in the actual story. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> The name for this work comes form the song Such Small Hands by La Dispute:  
https://youtu.be/U-BbcaeGjzU

_"Hey Sam... It's me."_

_The eldest Winchester brother was _ _sitting_ _ by himself on the impala's hood in the parking lot of another nameless hotel. Only this time he was truly alone, it was just him and the neon vacancy sign flickering in the night. He had never quite been alone like this new venture had left him. It had been over six months since he'd left Sam and his father, being away from his dad hurt less than the deep wound leaving his _ _brother_ _ gave him but still, he missed his family deeply. He wondered if his Sammy ever felt like this when they left him alone. _ _The many times they had left him alone, left him for hunts, for bars. Just left. Dean knew the answer, knowing the way Sam was. He must've felt that way, all those nights hollow and alone wondering when they were going to come back. If they were going to come back. This was his penance for that, Dean knew inside himself that to be true._

_"I, uh-" He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound steady and took a drag off his cigarette, flicking the butt into the distance. "I miss you. A lot... and I wish that you'd answer the phone so that I could hear your voice."_

_There was more silence from the voicemail receiver, as if he'd actually expect it to reply to him._

_"Dad says you're doing okay, but it's not _ _enough_ _ to hear it from him, I need to hear it from you to feel alright about it... Isn't it weird that he's the one answering the phone for once and you're not?" Even though there was no response_ _, Dean kept _ _talking_ _. Even though he didn't know if _ _Sam_ _ was gonna listen to the message. Sam always answered the phone before, he must be so upset with Dean. "It's okay if _ _you're_ _ mad at me Sammy, I _ _understand_ _. Hell, _ _I_ _ even deserve it. I know that. I told you _ _I_ _ would always be there... But I didn't know it wasn't the truth. I would never lie to you Sam. You know I _ _ **want** _ _ to be there... But _ _I_ _ also want to do right by you. I don't want to be the thing that messes you up inside. But-..."_

_Dean choked, then pulled the _ _phone_ _ away from his face for a second while he cleared the frog from his throat and furious blinked his eyes, pretending they weren't filling with tears. He wasn't _ _gonna_ _ cry... He was stronger than that. He had to try to be strong for both of them, even though he was gone. He just needed Sam to talk to him if he couldn't see him. He returned the _ _phone_ _ to his ear. "But _ _I'm_ _ just so alone right now... and baby, _ _I_ _ just want to hear your voice. Please... Please just call me back. It doesn't matter what time, forget time zones. Wherever I am I'll always answer your call, no matter what. You can yell at me, you can scream, you can tell me you hate me now. Whatever you want to say, I just want to hear you say it... Please talk to me... I- _ _I_ _ love you." Dean pressed the red button and flipped his phone shut. It was hard to resist the instinctual urge to just throw the stupid damn piece of plastic across the pavement out of sheer frustration, but he didn't do that on the off chance that tomorrow would be the day Sam finally called him back. He tried to keep up hope, but _ _he_ _ doubted it would happen._

_Instead he was just going to smoke and drink himself to death to deal with his problems. He pulled out his pack from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Only one left. He lit it up, he _ _would_ _just_ _ have to go get more, and a nice big bottle of jack or go to the bar while he was at it. His fake ID was good enough to get that done. At least he had an excuse to leave the empty motel where no one would be waiting. He gave Baby's hood a pat before he he hopped inside. Even if he had nothing else, he had her. He would make that enough. It had to be._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_The night was quiet in the Minnesota cabin where the _ _other_ _ two Winchesters resided just _ _for_ _ the night. At _ _least_ _ it was quiet now that John had fallen asleep, drunk and sated after _ _taking_ _ what he had wanted from the boy who was now shaking on the floor in the corner. It was a cold night, and there was no heater but that was not the only reason why Sam was shaking. He was afraid, and so, so tired. But he couldn't fall asleep, no he wouldn't fall asleep. Sleeping brought him back to Dean, and it made him forget what his new life was. Then he always woke in the morning to the sick realization that everything had changed, it would never be the same again. Dean was gone. He wasn't coming back, and Sam would have to just shut his mouth and endure. Follow the rules that were drilled into his head by now. 'Do what he says, bend over when he says to bend over, spread your legs, be a good boy for daddy. Do it all diligently, without complaint so that you can make up for the evil that you are.' No, Sam didn't want to sleep and wake up to be in hell all over again. It was easier to just live through it and pass out when he had to, those times he would sleep so hard it was dreamless._

_He wondered if Dean ever thought of him on nights like these. If he missed Sam like Sam missed him. If he sat there just wishing, praying that they could be together again. Probably not, Sam told himself. Dean was different, wasn't weak like his younger brother. He was probably overindulged, jaded of Sam's affection anyway, maybe he really just wanted to leave like John always tells him with vinegar in his words. Maybe that's why it was so easy for him to leave like he did. Dean was never prone to anything more than one night stands with anyone else, so he probably got tired of having Sam. An overused toy that no longer held his attention, so he threw it away. He was probably off deep inside a new whore every night, the way he liked._

_'You know that's not true, he'll always love you.' a voice inside Sam's head objected, but a bigger angrier part of him told that voice to shut the fuck up. It was easier to tell himself that Dean didn't love him anymore, that he didn't care. Because if Dean didn't care then he could tell the voice that told Sam he didn't deserve this life, that he deserved to be happy, to shut its damn mouth. John had told him over and over again that he deserved this, he brought this upon himself, this was all he was good for, and that nobody cared that's why nobody did anything about it. He said it so much that Sam was starting to believe it for himself. It was starting to sink into his very pores so deep that it was becoming a part of him. The endless mantra of 'you deserve this' playing in his head became the only playlist he knew by heart. If he didn't deserve this, why hadn't Dean come back and saved him? Dean always knew what was best, and if this was the choice his brother made then he was going to go along with it. He trusted Dean's decisions, every single one._

_The more rational part of Sam told him that he was being stupid. Dean didn't know what leaving would mean for Sam. He would never want Sam to be hurt in the way that he was everyday. Just remembering the look on Dean's face in the dark when they kissed their last goodbye said it all. He thought he was protecting Sam, he thought Sam would be safe without him... and Sam never wanted to admit it to himself. But that time, for the first time, Dean was very wrong. He would never accept that though. He would just accept his fate, and keep following the rules. Because Dean wasn't here, Dean wasn't coming back. The only time he could see his beloved's face was in his dreams, and he wasn't even really able to enjoy those anymore. _

_Sam closed his eyes to rest his head. He told himself he wouldn't fall asleep, but with his tired and injured body it came without his permission. His head lolled back against the wall, and his body stayed curled in on itself even in his sleep. So many truths the sleeping boy did not know. So many things he did not see. Things like the familiar cellphone stuffed in Johns duffel bag. The one that John took from him the day Dean left and put on silent, stuffed away so that Sam would forget, so that Sam would think Dean forgot too. He didn't see the screen light up in the bag just then like it often did, or the words '(20+) missed calls' right next to the caller ID 'JERK'. So how could he know? How was he expected to know that Dean felt the same way all alone a thousand miles away or wherever he was? All Sam Winchester knew was what he could see, and the rest was speculation. But it was all he had to live by, and living was hard. It was so, so hard._

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_Dean was sitting alone at the very end of the bar, cigarette in his mouth while nursing his fourth glass of whiskey. He was sure he looked like shit. He felt like shit, not because the alcohol but because his other half was missing. It felt like he had a conjoined twin had been cut from his body and all that was left was a gaping bleeding wound. It was like he had a phantom limb, gone but he would always feel the place where it had once been. He thought over time that it would get better, but it only got worse the longer it went. He only missed Sam more._

_Dean was startled from his thoughts when a stranger sat next to him at the bar. At first he cursed internally, he thought he had made himself look unwelcoming enough that no one would approach him. Guess not. The strange man pulled an old cap off of his head that looked like it came from another century and waved to the bartender. "Whiskey, neat." He said. Dean could appreciate that drink order. A man's drink order. When the stranger brought the glass up to his lips, Dean's eyes followed and he saw that even in the dim light of the bar that he was handsome. He had blue eyes, pale skin, and a short scruffy beard. He was definitely much older than dean. Judging by the fact that he chose to sit so close to one of the only other patrons of the bar as well as the sideways glance he made toward Dean, this guy was either real lonely or he was into men. Dean knew he was pretty, so it was probably the latter. He didn't mind, maybe that meant he didn't have to be alone tonight. Dean downed the rest of his glass in one gulp and waved for another._

_"So are we drinking to remember someone? Or are we drinking to forget?" The blue eyed stranger asked in a gravelly voice and gave him a piercingly deep look. Dean was too inebriated already to care that we was being so transparent that a random person could interpret his emotions. He didn't have it in him to give a shit._

_"Drinking to fill a hole, keeps getting deeper and deeper." Was all he replied, he heard the slur in his voice._

_"I can get with that on a whole other level." Blue eyes said. "That hole inside you have a name?" He questioned. Dean didn't know why he was thinking of telling this man. But he had been so very alone, and this person seemed awfully willing to listen._

_"Sam... His name is Sam." He clutched the newly filled glass in his hands._

_"I'll bet he's worth missing. The hole I've got, her name was Andrea." The stranger shared, looking down at the bar top. Then he lifted his glass a bit as if for a toast and said, "To the missing pieces."_

_Dean could drink to that. He could give a toast for his missing piece, it's all he really drank for anymore anyway. So he lifted his glass as well and gave a sad sounding, "Hear, hear." and downed most of his new glass. The other man did the same, and in the darkness of underneath the ledge of the bar Dean felt a hand land lightly on his knee and give it a small but sensual squeeze. Those deep icy blue eyes found his mossy green ones._

_"What if I say I know a better way to fill that hole, even if just for a little while?"_ _Dean blinked a couple times at the offer, took him a couple moments to process. This guy was damn straightforward. _

_He could only respect that. He took the last swig of his whiskey and said, "Well then I say let's get out of here." then scooted back his bar stool to stand up. He wasn't going to waste any time._


End file.
